Be Sure To Taste Your Words Before You Spit Them Out
by alaskanbirdfriend
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester finally talk. A sequel to We Stopped Checking For Monsters Under The Bed When We Realized They Were Inside Of Us. Part 8 of my Speak Of The Devil And He Shall Appear series.
1. Chapter 1

Sam thinks something has short-circuited in Dean's brain, because Dean has been sitting there, mouth open, for at least thirty seconds.

Sam raises his eyebrows, waves a hand in front of his brother's face. "Dude."

Dean's face slowly forms into a grin. "You did it." But then he quickly frowns, confusion spreading through his features. "How did you do it?"

 _Sam feels like there is something squeezing his chest, gripping at his windpipe, he can't breathe, wait, he doesn't need to, but still, he's too scared-_

Dean's voice cuts through Sam's panicked thoughts as Dean holds his arms.

"Hey, hey, Sam, you're okay, you're fine, you don't have to answer me–"

Sam gulps in a breath, _he doesn't need air, not anymore, it just feels normal,_ and shakes his head. "No, no, no. It's fine."

Dean lets go, sitting back in his chair. "What did you do, then, steal his blade?"

"No, I…"

Sam pauses, stops talking, and decides actions are better than words. Dean watches him, waiting.

Sam sits up straight and takes a deep breath, shifting a little to face his brother. _He can do this._

 _And so Sam Winchester summons the power of Heaven and it shines down upon him._

 _His wings spread, three luminous pairs, and there are shadows on the wall, enormous wing-shadows, and his eyes are glowing, shining with grace-light, and there is a halo sitting above his head like a crown, shimmering like molten gold and–_

Everything snaps back into his body, _or is it just a vessel now,_ and Sam slouches where he sits, watching his brother with wary eyes. He doesn't think he can take it if Dean yells at him.

 _He'll probably be so much of a coward he'll fly away._

Dean is staring at Sam with wide, shocked eyes, holding onto the edge of his seat with white clenched hands like the display of power might've blown him away.

 _Sam doesn't even know how powerful he is, yet. It's just a never-ending abyss._

 _Except abyss is the wrong word, for it no longer feels dark, sickening, evil._

 _It feels pure._

 _For once in his rotting hellhole of a life._

Sam watches warily as Dean slowly relaxes, blowing out a breath.

"I thought I was hallucinating."

Sam frowns. "What?"

Dean waves a hand. "Earlier- I saw you with Jack, you had wings, I think, and then you disappeared. At first, I thought someone had put something in my coffee."

Sam shoots up from his slouched position, his breaths coming faster and faster, staring at Dean with shock and horror.

"You knew?"

 _It's all coming back to Sam, Dean knew, he knew and he isn't yelling, isn't telling Sam he is a monster, telling Sam he is an_ _ **abomination**_ _, so what does this mean, Sam can't figure it out–_

Dean has gotten up from his chair and he is kneeling before Sam on the floor, and Sam is looking down at his brother who staring at Sam's face in confusion and concern. _This is wrong,_ Sam thinks. _I should be kneeling, not my brother, not Dean Winchester, not the Righteous Man–_

"Hey, man, it's okay, you're gonna be okay…but, yeah, I knew, why are you freaking out–?"

Dean's voice cuts off as Sam lifts a trembling hand and presses two fingers against his brother's forehead.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean watches Sam's petrified face and stays quietly still as he feels gentle grace brush up against his mind.

 _The memories he receives are anything but._

 _He nearly falls to the ground as images swarm his thoughts, scrambling and poking around his brain like relentless crows._

 _He feels heart-wrenching sorrow and agony as he hears his brother, no,_ _ **himself**_ _, say words buried so deep in his own memory he forgets he ever voiced them._

 _ **If I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you.**_

 _And oh, God, Sammy, no, he never meant that, he never wanted to hurt his brother like that-_

But something dark and deep inside him whispers, _then why did you ever say it?_

 _Dean turns away from that thought in shame and guilt._

 _There are more memories, more pain, more_

 _monster,_

 _abomination,_

 _ **bloodsucking freak**_ _,_ _ **vampire**_ _-_

 _Wait,_ _ **no**_ _,_ Dean thinks, and he is back to staring at his brother's pale face in horror.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam lets go.

Dean is trembling, _trembling, just like Sam,_ and staring at Sam with horrified eyes.

"Sam, I didn't–" He swallows. "I didn't say that."

Sam laughs hollowly, looking down at the ground with white-clenched fists. Dean flinches at the unsettling sound.

"I'm pretty sure you did, Dean."

 _Those words were used for millennia. A twisting, turning, agonizing torture that never ended._

Dean closes his eyes, head turning away from Sam.

"No, I…I won't deny the others. But I'm your brother, Sammy, I never should have said any of those–" Dean chokes on his words, then continues with a raspy voice. "But I never…I never called you a _vampire_ , Sam, I swear I didn't–"

"You don't remember the voicemail?"

Dean's expression crinkles in confusion. "What voicemail?"

Sam shifts where he sits, swallowing. "The one before Lilith."

"The message I left you? The apology?"

Sam doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

"Apology? What kind of _apology_ is that?"

Dean frowns as he leans back in his seat, expression confused and hurt. "I…Sam, I told you I was sorry, I swear."

 _Sorry? He doesn't remember any sorry._

Sam snorts, his mouth etched into a bitter smile. "Dean, I'll show you the voicemail."

And as Sam taps Dean on the forehead for the second time, Dean hears it all.

* * *

 _Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak._

 _Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you._

 _Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you._

You're a monster, Sam– a vampire.

 _You're not you anymore._

 _And there's no going back._


	4. Chapter 4

_Horror is the only thing Dean can feel._

The words echo in his skull, bounce around in his brain with nowhere to go, _because what the hell was that?_

Dean scrambles his way back into his chair, hands trembling. He feels sick.

Sam is leaning against the wall, sitting on the bed, and only looks weary, only looks tired, _only looks broken like he's heard this thousands upon thousands upon thousands of times–_

"I never said that."

It's the only thing Dean can say now. _He never said that, never said those words, oh God, Sammy, how could you ever think that?_

Sam looks hesitant, confused. "What?" His voice croaks out.

Dean is still spaced out, still filled with shock as he shakes his head slowly.

"I never said that, I swear. I didn't–" Dean swallows. "When did you say hear that?"

Sam glances away, avoiding Dean's eyes. "I told you. Just before…just before I let Lilith out."

 _Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no._

 _Zachariah couldn't have, he wouldn't have–_

Dean's train of thought run off its rails as he realizes it, running his hands through his hair in shock.

"Sam, I didn't say that. I sent you something else, it must've been the angels."

Sam's expression twists in pain. "I suppose I'm not surprised. I guess I should've deleted it by now…" He doesn't even realize he's talking out loud until Dean whispers with wide eyes,

" _ **What?!**_ "

Sam frowns. "What?"

"You- you kept it all these years? Why the hell would you do that, did you think you deserved it or something–?"

Dean's hands stop gesturing wildly and he stops talking when he sees Sam is looking everywhere but him.

" _ **Sam,**_ " Dean's voice comes out strangled. " _Sammy, you don't deserve that…_ "

Sam shrugs helplessly, looking at his brother with weary, shattered eyes. "It's fine."

Dean shakes his head vigorously. "No, it's not. Sam, look in my memories."

"Dean–"

"Just, _look._ "

And so Sam Winchester lifts his hand slowly and opens his eyes to the truth.

* * *

 _Look, I'll just get right to it._

 _I'm still pissed…and I owe you a serious beatdown._

 _But…I shouldn't have said what I said._

 _You know, I'm not Dad._

 _We're brothers. You know, we're family._

 _And, uh…no matter how bad it gets, that doesn't change._

 _Sammy,_ _ **I'm sorry**_ _._

* * *

And when Sam Winchester lets go, he feels a long-open wound finally heal.


End file.
